Surfacing
by Cerulean.Phoenix7
Summary: She had never considered the possibility that she was drowning.


**Surfacing**

A/N: This takes place after 3.03 "The Plateau". Lyrics are from "Swallowed in the Sea" by Coldplay. I just had this in my files and thought that I would post it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe, just my own creative muse that is very difficult to ignore.

No copyright in**FRINGE**ment intended. (I just had to do that)

Now, once you stop laughing over that particular coincidence, please read.

It felt like rough sand rubbing against her skin or a stray eyelash getting caught in her eye. Either way, it didn't feel right. Olivia felt off, like that one puzzle piece that didn't fit quite right and stuck up slightly above the others.

Frank felt strange, his hug like a pair of bolted planks trying to gather her up in their blocky form. His eyes were like obsidian from another continent and his kiss was a wrinkled rose, something she knew long ago but was now lost.

But that man, whose face rose from some remnants of the breakdown, he was another matter entirely.

He was like biting into the first crunchy apples of the fall harvest. The scent of the illusion made her think of fresh cinnamon and...coffee? Surely not, with the beverage being such a severely rationed item.

The radio in the next room hummed out a gentle tune, words tumbling like water over a soft fall.

_You cut me down a tree_

_And brought it back to me_

_And that's what made me see_

_Where I was going wrong_

The air felt cold and dry now, like cotton misted with a thin layer of ice. The chair she sat in felt like cold metal, something that seemed so familiar to her when the chair she sat in was made of wood. The avocados on the counter looked sad and lonely; the dimples on their mottled skin sank into pits of wrinkled abandonment.

Olivia felt like the room was a black construct, lines and angles defined with meticulous precision and she was a white blur; completely absent of definition or certainty.

She wasn't entirely sure what drove her to grab her coat and step out of the apartment, the radio still playing the tender song. The words ebbed through the hard exterior of the door, bleeding onto the walls and floor like paint.

_And I could write it down_

_Or spread it all around_

_Get lost and then get found_

_Or swallowed in the sea_

She thought it strange for someone to write about getting found as being similar to being swallowed in the sea. She wondered what that would be like.

On the street, the occasional clack or clunk indicated a late night traveller and the few horns or screeches signalled the few yellow taxis that buzzed around like over tasked honey bees.

A taxi cab paused at a red light had its window down, and the same soft melody that she'd heard in her apartment poured onto the street like warm chocolate.

_The streets you're walking on_

_A thousand houses long_

_Well that's where I belong_

_And you belong with me_

The houses and apartment buildings lined the streets like discoloured shrubbery, stained with the colours of time's cruelty. But then they took on another colour, the streets and buildings appeared a violent red and malice poured from every orifice.

And Olivia was a small blue orb caught amongst crimson soldiers and scarlet towers.

But she didn't understand why everything seemed so _red_ and she so _blue_.

The music was louder, as if the cab driver had reached for that one ribbed dial and turned it to a deafening volume. Her footsteps matched the beat as she walked.

_And I could write a song_

_A hundred miles long_

_Well that's where you belong_

_And you belong with me_

The granite blocks before her now seemed to gleam like ivory piano keys tickled with sunlight, and her legs were a master's nimble fingers; navigating various harmonies and arpeggios. She'd never played a piano before, so why did the reflection of the pristine keys in her eyes seem so familiar?

She felt like she was swimming amongst these strange and bizarre ideas, with no idea of where the surface was. All she could see were thick tendrils that suffocated the sun and trapped her below.

More words flowed into the air like cream onto ripe strawberries; one incomplete without the other.

_You belong with me_

_Not swallowed in the sea_

The tendrils snapped in a roaring moment of realisation as she stopped on the sidewalk.

Then she broke the surface, and the water splintered into warped shards that flecked her face as she took a breath and remembered.

It nearly overwhelmed her, pouring into her mind with the ferocity of molten lava and the speed of a lightning bolt.

And when she whispered _his_ name, it was like a soft cherry cordial on her tongue; it was crumbly and slightly tart at first, then the sweet contents spread like a delectable butter over the surface of her mouth.

The words resonated like screaming gunshots in her mind.

_You belong with me._

But they hadn't been _his_ words, they'd been her own.

And she put two fingers to her lips and recalled the kiss and her eyes closed at the memory of his lips against hers; a fresh rose against a smooth leaf.

Up the street, moonlight glimmered off the translucent amber tomb of the opera house, and she dropped her hand, the name permanently branded into her memory.

_Peter._

_End._

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